A/N: Wow. So sorry about the wait. I couldn't find time to write/perfect this chapter before, what with Thanksgiving and finals and, of course, crying over Gossip Girl's 2x13 episode. So here's some well deserved CB angstyfluff! Yay!

ALSO: I deleted the last two lines of the previous chapter. I didn't like them. Suspensegirl pointed out that they led one to believe that Chuck would only say those infamous three effing words in order to manipulate Blair into helping him destroy Dan--and since that wasn't where I decided the story was heading/heads in this concluding chapter, I decided to change the end of the Ch 2. So...yeah. If you're confused, then read this author's note. Or click back to Ch 2. If you're a new reader... welcome! And ignore everything I just said. :) Enjoy!

Chapter Three: Back to Blair's Bedroom

Can't we give ourselves one more chance?

Why can't we give love that one more chance?

--"Under Pressure" by David Bowie & Queen

Blair sat in front of her vanity mirror, staring at herself miserably. What the hell was wrong with them? They'd had a golden opportunity to admit their feelings on the roof and they'd fucked it up. Like always.

If you looked up "Chuck and Blair" in the dictionary, it would say "see complicated."

Blair sighed, slowly taking out her earrings. It had been worse than she'd imagined. She hadn't even been able to tell Serena how bad it had been, just mumbled "disaster" and ran sobbing to her cab.

But she was done crying.

At least for tonight.

Her door opened slowly and she turned to see the very object of her musings standing in the doorway, his face pale, his eyes cast in shadow.

What the fuck?

"Are you here to gloat?" she asked bitingly. What was he doing here? Had he come to rub it in? Congratulations, Blair, you can't voice how you feel about anything! I knew you wouldn't be able to do it!

"Over what?" he asked.

"Well you won," she said grudgingly. "Pop the champagne." Her throat stung and she felt a rush in her sinuses that ended behind her eyes. Stop it, she told herself. She was so not going to cry over this again—especially not in front of him.

"I didn't win anything," Chuck returned softly.

Did she really think that? What he wanted was for her to finally tell him how she really felt—how could he "win" otherwise? Hell, he didn't even want to play the game anymore, not if it meant they'd constantly be in this tug-of-war of scathing remarks, feelings, and he-said/she-said.

Blair swallowed hard, finally meeting his eyes. Her face looked puffy from crying. Chuck felt a pang somewhere inside at the thought of her crying over him.

"Then why does it feel like I lost?" she whispered. She couldn't stop her voice from breaking.

He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets, and fully entered the room. Biting the inside of his cheek, Chuck cast his gaze up at the ceiling.

He felt like he had lost, too. Was that their destiny? Both of them neck-in-neck and the end result…nothing? A standstill? He didn't want that to be the outcome—he knew what he wanted—he wanted her—but he didn't know (alright, he knew) how to get her, he just wasn't willing to put himself out there. Not if she wasn't.

Except…she had. Or would have. If Brooklyn hadn't interfered.

"Why did you take advice from Dan Humphrey?" he finally managed.

Blair started, taken aback. "How did—"

"He stalked me in the stairwell," Chuck interrupted. His eyes landed on Blair, sitting there with a confused furrow marring her brow. He knew she didn't understand the subject change, but he had come here for a reason, blood still burning and ears still ringing from what Humphrey had told him.

"Didn't it cross your mind that troll-faced Vanessa would spill all about her little humiliation at our hands?" he asked, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "There's no love lost between us and Brooklyn. Did you really think he'd help you?" He didn't mean to, but his voice ended on a snarl.

Blair felt her anger rising. "You told me to chase you," she let out. "Serena thought—"

"Since when do you follow Serena's plans, Queen B?"

Blair's face hardened and she stood up, disliking the fact that he was talking down to her. She couldn't stand someone wielding power over her, least of all Chuck Bass. And Queen B? More like the Prime-fucking-minister. Thanks a lot, Basshole.

"I was at a loss, Chuck! I didn't know what to do—"

"Don't tell me you couldn't come up with anything—"

"I've never chased anyone before—"

"Please, you chased Nate for years—"

"You and Nate are completely different!" she cried.

Chuck blinked. He opened his mouth to retort, but found nothing to say.

Blair sighed, shaking her head. "I guess you were right. Again." She met his gaze, daring him to comment on her concession. "I was desperate." She let out a humorless laugh, remembering that scene at the bar. "His advice wasn't even that good at first."

Chuck raised an eyebrow. "He told you to empty your drink on my pants?"

"No! To make myself unavoidable."

She inwardly cringed just thinking about it. It had been fun actually, putting herself in Chuck's way, making eyes at him at school, teasing him as they rode in his limo, showing up unannounced in his house… She had always excelled at flirting, especially with Chuck. They collided and sparked and made the earth shake when they were barely in the same room together for five seconds. And chasing him had been exhilarating and dangerous and she even felt out of her element, but in a good way. Trying to find that chink in his armor where he'd relent had been a challenge she couldn't say no to.

But ultimately, it hadn't been enough. Just like she knew it wouldn't be from the start.

"No matter what Serena said," Chuck muttered, "Dan Humphrey has no right sticking his high-cheek-boned face into my business."

"Your business?" It was Blair's turn to raise an eyebrow.

Chuck simply stared at her, his face unreadable. When he didn't continue, she bit her lip.

"I... I get that you're still ticked off about him and Nate—"

"No, you don't," he said firmly.

The confused look on her face made Chuck realize he had to tell her everything about his embarrassing encounter with Dan. Especially if he wanted her help in bringing Hum-Drum Humphrey down. He had vaguely hoped to avoid this, but it appeared to be inevitable. He sighed and sat down on her bed, hoping this part would finish quickly. If there was one thing Chuck Bass hated, it was revealing his mistakes, especially to those who could hold them over his head in torture. Weakness was something Chuck liked to pretend didn't exist.

"During fashion week," he began, "he asked me to 'take him out of his comfort zone' and show him the real New York."

"Let me guess," Blair said softly, sitting down beside him, "drugs, booze, and women?"

He took in the small smile tugging at her lips and felt a shiver run down his spine. Suddenly he could breathe a little easier. This was Blair he was talking to.

"You know me well," he whispered.

The smile spread.

"I try," she replied.

After a moment, Chuck averted his gaze, inhaling through his nose, and continued. "I was bored, so I humored him. We got into a bar fight." He waved his hand, as if things such things happened everyday, which, as he was Chuck Bass, they did. "And when we waited in the jail cell for bail, I let slip a few things…"

He tried to go on, but his throat had closed. Wordlessly, Chuck reached into his jacket pocket and shoved that loathed piece of paper in her face.

"What—?"

Once her hand closed over it he abruptly stood up, unable to sit there mindlessly as she read the poorly-written imitation of his life, harshly critiqued in bright red.

Why had he even stopped home to pick it up before heading to Blair's penthouse? Perhaps he knew he wouldn't be able to put himself out there again, bare his soul over the same secret sin twice in little over three weeks. Rejection or betrayal was too real a concept for him to face a second time over the same subject, especially from her.

But she deserved to know it all.

Chuck swallowed hard and faced the window.

"Turns out he didn't have to fish for my secrets," he said bitterly. "I told him…I told him the truth. I killed my mother."

There was no response.

"She died giving birth to me. That's why Bart's always hated me." He let out a short, self-derisive laugh. "Well, at least, that was the first and unforgivable offense."

He stood there, staring at her lacy curtains, straining to hear her reaction on the bed behind him.

Fuck. There was nothing. His palms began to itch. What had he been thinking? Why had he opened his mouth? Chuck's stomach churned.

Just when he was reconsidering his impulsive baring of his soul and thought seriously about whipping around and tearing that cursed piece of paper from her hands, Blair spoke.

"He was writing about you?" she asked incredulously.

Chuck didn't turn around, seemingly unable to look her in the face.

"He—he was using you?"

Blair heard the paper crinkle and looked down in distant astonishment to see her hands gripping the story and shaking.

Dan Humphrey had used Chuck Bass, the mother of all users. He'd used Chuck—and he had the gall to warn her about playing games? He thought he was the one to call down from his moral high-horse and accuse Chuck of playing games? Dan Humphrey was the one playing games! He was the one sidling up to them with that innocent, wide-eyed look and then slapping their misplaced trust away as easily as if he was swatting a fly.

And while her heart burned over the words Chuck had just uttered, she knew that that conversation could wait. She'd always known Chuck felt conflicted over his father, but this… While it explained so much, Blair knew that he'd only revealed it in order to tell her about Dan Humphrey and his unbelievably atrocious Brooklyn ways—and frankly, that was what Blair was fixated on for the moment. Because her reaction over Dan was what Chuck needed right now.

What the fuck had Serena ever seen in him? And why had Blair actually listened to her and taken his advice? Advice from Dan Humphrey?! Ew!

What the fuck?!

"Who the hell does Dan Humphrey think he is?" she let out, finding herself standing, staring at the paper, unable to rip her eyes away from Find out what makes him tick!

Had Dan even meant what he'd said before, about her being careful? Was it all revenge in some convoluted Brooklyn way that made him feel like the tragic, maligned hero? Was he trying to get back at Chuck over the story? Or at her for some basically forgotten game with Jenny? Or just because she was involved with Chuck? Or because Vanessa had whined to him about the game that she'd instigated with her blackmail—something Blair highly doubted V had mentioned when relaying the "facts" to her dear bff.

Or was Dan just toying with them?

"What a self-righteous douche bag!" she cried. She snorted. "Charlie Trout? That's the most unoriginal, asinine thing I've ever fucking heard." He was a terrible writer! Who the hell was he trying to kid? That snub-nosed Hazel could write a better story than this. And hadn't he ever heard about that little thing called fiction? Sure people wrote from life all the time—but they didn't rip off other people's life stories, create the dumbest, most transparent fake names ever and then dub it their own original work. Unless they were begging to be sued.

What a fucking hypocrite. Hated the Upper East Side life, did he? Thought Serena got everything handed to her on a silver platter? Well, he had no qualms about using his own measly connections to his advantage. First using Chuck, then buddying up to Nate, then spinning her around in circles?

Who the hell did Cabbage Patch think he was? One of them?

Blair felt the rush that came from plotting revenge burst in her stomach and run with fervent, fiery shivers through her veins. She was the Queen B. She'd reclaim her throne over this. And Brooklyn was definitely going down. It would be so easy. A smile started on her lips and spread as she imagined all the ways to make him pay for weaseling his way into their business and wrecking havoc.

She bit her lip in anticipation, her eyes still lingering over the paper, titled with a date (how cliché could he be?).

"Were you planning something drastic?" she crooned in a low voice. "Or would you prefer to start out with something deadly but slow—?"

Blair was cut off by Chuck's mouth, which crashed against hers hungrily, his lips hard, his breath hot. He couldn't help himself, not when she was getting so heated up, damning that Brooklyn upstart and starting to talk revenge. Desire pooled in his groin just at the sight of that bitchy smile.

The paper she had been holding fluttered to the floor, forgotten as their passion temporarily blotted out memory. Blair felt the fire within her rage with a roaring heat. Opening her mouth eagerly beneath his, she allowed him entrance, which he took with a demanding gusto, his tongue sweeping into her mouth and making her body melt. One of his hands clutched the back of her neck; the other firmly grasped her ass, bringing her body flush against his. Blair let out a strangled moan, burying her hands in his hair as the kiss deepened.

What had she even been saying?

Chuck broke away, breathing hard, turning his face into her neck, trying to control himself. Blair trembled in his arms, panting, her mind dazed, her eyes dreamy.

They had to talk about this before it went any further.

"Chuck," she whispered after a moment, still clinging to him, unwilling to unwrap her arms from around his neck. "What are we doing?"

He swallowed, feeling her heart beat against his. The scent of her neck made him want to cave in.

"Just because we haven't said those three words doesn't mean they aren't true," he said softly. He pulled back and took in her flushed face, eyes still dark with desire. He hesitated, doubt making his stomach clench. "But are we ready, Blair? It would just be a matter of time before we messed it all up."

This conversation was heading serious fast.

His grip relaxed but he didn't let go—he couldn't deny himself the trifling pleasure he got from simply holding her. "Can you really see us acting like a normal couple? Chuck and Blair going to the movies? Chuck and Blair holding hands?"

"We don't have to do those things," she insisted, her serious tone matching his. "We can do the things we like."

"What we like is this. The game." The only problem was, neither of them knew—or could control—the outcome. They both required the complete and utter surrender of their adversaries, but neither was willing to bend.

Blair pursed her lips thoughtfully. "While I will admit that having you as an opponent is a challenge that is undeniably thrilling, we both know that what we like most is playing with other people," she said. "Especially when we team up. Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't that why you came here?" She raised an eyebrow knowingly. "To play with Dan?"

Chuck met her eyes. It was true, but…

"I need you. I want you," he admitted. He leaned in and said in a deathly whisper, "And I always get what I want."

"Well so do I," Blair returned. "I'm always a winner." Her eyes searched his, asking him to…

"Maybe it's not always about winning." Chuck leaned his forehead against hers and let out a sigh. Her eyes fluttered shut and he thought about how right she felt in his arms.

Fuck it. To hell with rules. Weren't they made to be broken?

"I love you," he whispered.

It seemed fair. Hadn't she asked him to say those words first?

Blair didn't move. She felt like if she did, if she so much as breathed, the moment would shatter into the dream it almost certainly was. Had he just…? She slowly pulled back, letting out a breath.

Chuck opened his eyes to see Blair glowing. Her face was radiant, her eyes sparkled, traveling over his face, kissing it with the look of utter happiness he had so often seen directed at Nate. Only now, to him, it was different, deeper somehow. Brighter. Truer. She had never looked more beautiful. The moment had never been so perfect.

Her lips parted.

"I love you, too," she said breathlessly.

They looked at each other, eyes locked, the weight having finally been lifted.

And then they were kissing, their mouths moving together, not desperately, but with the knowledge that this time it was for real, that this time they had finally admitted their feelings and were in perfect harmony with each other. Together they backed up until they fell on the bed, a tangle of limbs, discarding clothing as they went, touching and gasping and marveling over the feelings that had just been voiced and reciprocated.

And then they were one, moving on the bed together in that age old rhythm of love, their bodies straining, seeking, giving fulfillment. Blair gasped as the pace picked up, her hips rising to meet his deep thrusts, until she reached the peak with a cry that brought him over the edge, and he came with a deep groan against her golden throat.

In the aftermath they lay together on the bed. Chuck listened to her heart beating in time with his. Blair snuggled into his side, and gazed up at him, unable to stop smiling.

"Dan Humphrey is so going down," she said absently, running her fingers through his hair.

Chuck gave her a look. "You're thinking about Brooklyn at a time like this?" he groaned. He flipped her over on to her back, a smirk hovering on his lips, and leaned in, blocking her view of everything else until he was the only thing she could see—her whole world. "I must not be on my game."

Blair let out a giggle. She brushed a kiss across his mouth, then pulled back. "I thought this wasn't a game?" she simpered sweetly, letting out a true laugh when his hands gripped her waist and squeezed. "No, really… I'm merely musing about Humphrey's total social destruction," she relented, her eyes taking on her haughty look of queenly, bitchy, revenge. "If he thought his little game would keep us apart—"

She was interrupted by his lips.

"—he doesn't even know the rules—"

Chuck met her mouth again, this time with a moan.

"—not when we're on the same side," she whispered.

And then she kissed him back.

The End. Reviews are a lovely thing. :)